


Five Times Stiles Threatens to Cry and One Time He Actually Does

by xvoided



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Human Stiles Stilinski, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marriage, Sick Stiles Stilinski, ha, kids named after dead characters, scira has kids, to be honest I'm not entirely sure what the hell this is, what the hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 21:33:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6676198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xvoided/pseuds/xvoided
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek knows Stiles hates flying, and Stiles is positive that’s the only reason Derek had chosen to purchase plane tickets. Yes, Derek Hale had a fucking choice between flying out or driving to Beacon Hills and he chose to fly, he chose to cause Stiles not only emotional and physical pain, but for his heart to continually palpate profoundly. </p><p>In other words, Stiles is an anxiety filled flit of flesh that worries endlessly over useless shit and flying, don't forget flying, but Derek is there to take care of him and make sure that he gets a countless amount of cuddles, kisses, and Tylenol.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Stiles Threatens to Cry and One Time He Actually Does

**Author's Note:**

  * For [planiforidjit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/planiforidjit/gifts).



> it was so close to being explicit, i swear, but I'm honestly way to fucking lazy.

Derek knows Stiles hates flying, and Stiles is positive that’s the only reason Derek had chosen to purchase plane tickets. Yes, Derek Hale had a fucking choice between flying out or driving to Beacon Hills and he chose to fly, he chose to cause Stiles not only emotional and physical pain, but for his heart to continually palpate profoundly. 

“Your heart is beating like crazy.” Derek quietly points out, leaning towards Stiles as they sit in two uncomfortable airport chairs for no particular reason other than Stiles being the anxious creature he is and fully needing to sit down or he was going to projectile vomit. Or cry. Any of the two would be completely reasonable because Derek knows Stiles hates flying, and Stiles has come to the conclusion that Derek’s a total dick. But now that Stiles thinks about it he’d much rather throw up. Then maybe Derek will take him home and won’t need to see Stiles cry because frankly, he doesn’t like Derek seeing him cry. His pride is perfectly comfortable where it is at the moment. 

Derek laces his fingers through Stiles’ jittering hand and he somehow knows it’s torture. Well, as torturous as hand holding can get since Stiles is no longer talking to Derek. Stiles sits with his bottom lip out, staring intently at a dime on the floor in front of him with his bag resting beside him in it’s own chair and, after effortlessly trying to coax Stiles to go get food, Derek on the other side telling him things he doesn’t need to hear like “car crashes are more common than plane crashes”, “why are you like this” and the occasional “I hate you”. 

“Are you still giving me the silent treatment?” Derek asks, talking a little louder now as he’s not talking about wolfy stuff that passing onlookers would find strange. 

“Yes.” Stiles answers before he has time to think and yeah, no one said he would be good at it. Fact, the longest he goes without talking is twenty minutes, at the least.

“It’s only an hour flight, Stiles.”

“Why did you buy these god awful tickets, Derek?” He asks, finally turning to look at Derek. 

“You were,  _ and still are _ , sick with sporadic fevers. I thought it'd be easier to get to Beacon Hills sooner than later. I know you hate flying and I’m sorry, but I’m here and you don’t have to worry okay?” He replies and Stiles’ face softens because Derek is more a puppy than people are willing to give him credit for. 

“This is an exhausting amount of effort all for a wedding.” Stiles deadpans, sinking deeper into his chair. He may dwell and act as if he doesn’t really care, but Stiles is happy Lydia is getting married. She seems pretty happy with the guy. At least Stiles assumes so from all the spam of photos he gets from the muted pack groupchat Malia had insisted on making ever since she bought an iPhone and Isaac had given her the rundown on how it actually works. Eighteen year old Stiles definitely would’ve thought Lydia would be the one to get married first but, it’s funny how things work out and ironically, second last. Stiles being last though isn’t as surprising. 

“His name’s Greg, I think.” Derek says, moving his face to be only inches from Stiles’.

“That makes a pretty ugly ship name if you ask me.” 

“I was going to comment on the fact that we don’t even know the name of the guy she’s marrying but on a more inconsequential note, it does make a pretty ugly ship name.” 

“Leg. Grydia.”

“Lyreg.” 

And they go on for longer than Stiles would like to admit just throwing ship names back and forth at each other until the names get strange and Stiles gets bored. 

“You smell sick.” Derek says after a couple moments of silence, throwing a worried glance over to Stiles. Stiles can feel the heat start to prickle up his spine and the only thing on his mind is that if Derek has any reason to be concerned, they won’t board the plane and Stiles won’t throw up nor cry. Derek places his cool hand on Stiles’ forehead then cradles his cheeks in his palms. 

“You’re a little warm.” Derek says, chewing his bottom lip as he thinks.

“I’ll sleep on the plane.” But Derek lifts his backpack off the ground and unzips the front pocket, pulling out a Tylenol bottle. He turns the bottle around to read the label and Stiles wants to cry because he doesn’t think he’s seen anything more adorable. 

“The strangest things turn you on.” Derek says, still looking at the label. Stiles quickly looks to his crotch before looking back up at Derek. 

“It’s definitely adrenalin. So, fuck off.” Stiles argues, absently squeezing his legs together and moving uncomfortably in his chair. Derek pours two tablets into his palm and hands them to Stiles, closing the lid and putting it back in his backpack. Stiles stares at them and frowns, drearily looking back up to Derek.

“I can’t dry swallow.” 

“They’re tiny.”

“But…”

“Survived being possessed by a dark kitsune, beat the dread doctors and killed a Nazi werewolf but can’t swallow Tylenol.” Derek says, eyeing a coffee shop off to the left.

“It’s tough being human.” Stiles shrugs. His eyes drift to Derek’s lips in a rather obvious way, Derek parting them almost perfectly and Stiles is so prepared to kiss him when Derek stands up. Stiles frowns, opening his mouth to complain when Derek smiles down at him and leans in to kiss his forehead, one hand subtly raking through Stiles’ hair and the other cradling the nape of his neck. Derek parts from Stiles and he watches Derek walk away, heading for the coffee shop.

 

***

 

Derek’s face is something beyond creative words. Something along the lines of a blurring masterpiece, Stiles would put it. His face disorganized and a scattered array and flying papers Stiles wouldn’t mind running to pick up, chasing the wind. Only for Derek though. Only for Derek because Derek doesn’t deserve the world’s awful timing. Derek’s eyebrows knit together and pull into a confused expression, his lips parting as he goes to say words but his voice sounds like it’s underwater. And then Derek’s face is gone, as it bleeds into the dark water around him and Stiles can’t breathe. His chest feels tight as he tries to breathe, sucking in too much water. Panic rises in his throat and he moves his arms above him as he attempts to swim to the surface. He hears Derek’s voice slice through the water and it doesn’t sound muffled, he doesn’t sound like he’s drowning. 

“Stiles, wake up.” Stiles opens his eyes to be facing the isle of the airplane, people still sitting in their seats and the plane still very obviously moving and Stiles wonders if Derek did this on purpose. As he takes in the scene he realizes his music is still playing, his mind already singing along to the lyrics of Midnight City (which are actually pretty hard to decipher in all fairness) that Stiles knows for a fact has one hundred something plays. Stiles takes a deep breath in and realizes his legs are pulled up to his chest and his head’s half on Derek’s shoulder and half stuck to the back of his seat mostly by drool.

_ Gross _ . 

Derek must love his drool so he doesn’t worry about it too much. He pulls out his earphones and groans, his head semi-pounding. Semi as in Stiles doesn’t fully want to admit that he’s sicker than he lets on, but yeah, his head is pounding. 

“We’re gonna be landing soon, they put on the seatbelt light.” Derek says and Stiles shifts in his seat to look up at Derek sitting beside him. 

“I hate planes.” Stiles mumbles, clicking on his seatbelt and prods around to find Derek’s hand to hold. He does it so instinctively he forgets how embarrassing it is. 

“You slept the whole ride.”

“Doesn’t make me hate them any less.” 

Derek shrugs and squeezes his hand, intertwining their fingers, promising it’ll be over soon. They sit in silence for a couple moments as Stiles wipes the sleep out of his eyes and pops his ears from being plugged. Stiles assumes Derek gets annoyed with his fidgeting because he reaches over some time later with his free hand and tilts Stiles’ chin up to look at him before kissing his warm forehead and mumbling to him to relax. 

They land eventually and Derek carries the stuff, Stiles feeling worse than when they boarded. He insists multiple times on carrying his own bag but Derek won’t have it and Stiles is sorta grateful for it although he’s way too stubborn to ever admit it. As soon as they get to the airport Stiles makes a beeline for a chair, clutching his head in his hands.

“I hate planes.” Stiles had repeated as Derek softly rubbed his back and it didn’t really fully hit him until they were in the taxi to Scott’s house that he can’t remember to a time where he’d felt worse. 

“Stiles, ten more minutes okay?” Derek whispers, concern bleeding from his voice as he rubs his thumb over Stiles’ knee bone. 

“It’ll pass soon, I swear.” Stiles mumbles, lifting his head off the cool window pane momentarily to give Derek a reassuring smile although it’s probably not that reassuring now that he thinks about it because it actually gives him physical pain to move the muscles to do so. Being human is annoying. When the taxi comes to a stop outside of the McCall residence, Derek helps Stiles out all while paying the driver and carrying both of their bags and Stiles can’t help but feel bad. Scott opens the door and pats Stiles on the shoulder before going to help Derek bring in the luggage but Stiles fully refuses to go into the house not carrying anything and practically forces Derek to give him his bag. Kira meets Stiles and Derek at the door and she says she’s already made tea and Stiles can’t seem to get over how adorable this is.

“Uncle Derek, uncle Stiles! Aiden! They’re here!” A high pitched voice yells from upstairs as little Erica races down the stairs to hug Stiles at his knees. Aiden comes after her a little slower, taking the stairs slowly and cautious before hugging his knees as well. Stiles squats down and gives them each their own hug and ruffles Aiden’s hair and asks Erica if she likes school which she says she hates it and she tells him he smells sick and Derek compliments her outfit and asks her a list of questions while Erica leads him downstairs to show him her new sticker collection and Aiden follows behind, vocalizing that he wants to show him his bottle cap collection and then they’re gone. Kira sighs and turns to him, her expression softening as she ushers him into the kitchen and gives him some Aspirin and tea. 

 

***

 

Stiles sits in the bathtub exhausted for reasons he really doesn’t know. Derek’s in the other room reading to Erica and Aiden and Stiles feels so much pain everywhere he seriously might cry this time. He’s also sitting in freezing cold water because warm water didn’t seem appropriate at the time, but now he’s doubting his decision. What else is new. There’s a soft knock on the door and Stiles’ head feels so heavy he barely lifts it up.

“Stiles, are you okay?” Derek asks.

“I’m fine.” He nearly sobs. He gets whiney when he’s tired. It’s a Scorpio thing. He definitely read that somewhere. Derek turns the knob softly, pushing the door open to reveal his concerned expression. He rolls up his sleeves and moves quietly to the bathtub, getting to his knees and turning the dials so hot water leaks from them. Stiles so badly wants to reach out and run his hand through Derek’s hair but he’s honestly too tired to even lift his arm; fact, even  _ thinking _ about lifting his arm gives him anxiety. 

“They like when you read with the voices.” Derek almost looks confused for a moment, dipping his hand in the water to check if it’s warm enough. 

“Yeah, Scott told me that as well.” 

“Do you think we’ll have kids?” Stiles asks before he really even goes through what he’s saying.

“We could.” Derek doesn’t even miss a beat. He doesn’t say anything else, letting Derek tug at his hair as he washes it and then wraps him in a towel and Stiles can’t help but feel kinda pathetic. He pulls on his own boxers, _ by himself _ , and gets in bed. Derek shifts to hold Stiles tightly and it feels like the best thing ever. 

 

***

 

The ceremony is beautiful. Stiles almost cries. Stiles also sees suspicious wetness dab under Derek’s eyes but to be honest, if he would ever point it out, Derek would go out of his way to make sure Stiles never spotted a trace of emotion ever again because well, that’s Derek Hale for you. They all traveled back to Lydia’s house after because she had “booze and wanted to share it”. Stiles sits at a table with Kira on the patio and they watch Scott dance with Erica in the garden, and Derek help Aiden count all the little insects on the plants. He drains his like, eighth drink, before Lydia moves towards him and holds out her hand.

“I think this is the part of the night where I tell you to get off your cute little ass and dance with me.” She demands, arching one of her perfectly plucked brows and Stiles can’t hold back his chuckle.

“I remember a certain winter formal where a certain someone said almost the exact same thing.” He takes Lydia’s hand and she leads him out onto the deck where lights hang from beams and it’s actually quite relaxing and Stiles may fall asleep. Possibly. 

“Yes, but you were slightly straight back then.” She says, resting her hand on his shoulder. “But you know what I find inspiring?”

“What?”

“We never had one of those sit downs where you tell me you’re gay, because I don’t think you really care about other people’s opinions. You fall in love with who you fall in love with, there’s no actual limitations, you know? You say you’re gay only to have a label but you really don’t need one.” She says, her eyes shining up at Stiles’. He smiles softly, turning to look at Derek as he crouches down to be at Aiden’s level and points deeper into the forest, probably showing Aiden other bugs.

“Yeah.”

“It didn’t need to be an announcement that you found someone to fall in love with, Stiles. Because it doesn’t matter to anyone else.” He looks back to Lydia.

“Would you have liked a sit down where I tell you I’m gay?”

“I mean, that would’ve been cute.” She shrugs, and Stiles laughs. When the song finishes, she pecks Stiles on the cheek and then demands a Pack Picture as she calls it and Greg groans because she “can’t call it that because he’s not part of the pack” and everyone laughs and it’s a really nice picture except for of course, all the gleam of glowing eyes but it’s totally  _ them _ . Weird and unexplainable. They all help Lydia and Greg clean up after, and Derek dries the dishes as Scott washes them and Stiles is so distracted he keeps messing up the cables as Lydia tries to hook the TV back up and he can’t stop looking at Derek and Stiles knows Derek somehow is doing this on purpose. Lydia finally sighs, flustered and annoyed and Stiles apologizes to her for the gazillionth time. 

“Scott, can you help me with the chairs outside for a second?” Lydia asks, glaring at Stiles before Scott and her leave the room, Lydia’s heels angrily clacking against the wood followed by a slammed door. Derek turns around, obviously confused and it takes him a bit, but Stiles finally tunes in. 

“What was-” And Stiles grabs his cheeks and smashes his lips into Derek’s. It’s painfully slow because Stiles doesn’t think he can hold back his craving to taste Derek any more. Derek’s caught off guard at first, the stiffness relaxing into something wonderfully soft and vulnerable. His hands find their way to Stiles’ hips, each needing to touch, to  _ feel _ their skin. Stiles  _ loves _ Derek. He loves him and Lydia, goddamnit Lydia, was so fucking right he loves him. Their lips graze each other as they pull back for a second only to pant and gasp for hitched breaths in rhythm. Derek moves his hand to cradle Stiles’ head, pressing their lips together again. They pull back and Derek rests his forehead on Stiles’, nuzzling their noses together and Stiles’ knees are weak he’s almost positive he’s going to collapse into Derek’s arms. 

“I love you.” Stiles pants, resting his forehead on Derek’s and eying his lips. They’re parted and his cheeks are flushed and Stiles can’t help but need to taste his lips again. 

“Stiles,” Derek says breathlessly, giving his lips a peck. “You have no idea.”

“How much you love me?” Stiles asks, his voice so hushed he barely even hears it himself.

“How much I love you.” And Stiles thinks he might cry. He might cry because even in the heat of the moment, Derek is a masterpiece. And Stiles loves him. He loves everything about him. The door makes a click sound, indicating very clearly that Lydia and Scott are both coming back in from outside and Stiles just needs to kiss him again. So he does. And again. And he’s moving apart from Derek but one last kiss and he turns around and picks up the cables just as Lydia’s heels come to a stop and Stiles can feel the heat on his cheeks and he can feel Derek eying his back. 

“Are we good?” Lydia announces and Stiles nods his head kinda violently, darting his eyes to Lydia before embarrassingly looking back down at the mess of cables he has in his hands. He licks his lips and he can still taste Derek’s. Derek clears his throat and Stiles actually whines, the sound coming out of his throat raw and filled with emotion. Scott snorts as he tries to contain his laughter and Lydia hits him. “Good.” She says, marching back over to fix the cables, her elbow digging into Stiles’ arm and he’s not really sure if it’s on purpose or not. 

“Good thing you’re a werewolf because then you would’ve caught Stiles’ cold.” Scott remarks quietly to Derek and Stiles chokes on air, Lydia shooting him a glare as if she wants to murder him. 

 

***

 

Stiles groans. The sunlight from outside shines in from the window and illuminates off of the white bed sheets.

“What’s the matter?” Derek asks quietly, his head propped up on his elbow as he plays with Stiles’ hair. Stiles doesn’t answers because he’s not entirely sure Derek actually asked him the question. He’s drifting in and out of a semi-asleep, semi-awake type of daze at the moment.

“Hey,” Derek calls, carding his fingers through Stiles’ hair and Stiles merely moans in response.

“I can’t ride a plane today.” 

“I bought the tickets in advance.” Derek replies, slowly moving his hands to be rubbing Stiles’ back softly.

“I’m seriously going to throw up.” And his stomach does a little flip, sending pain throughout his whole body and he can feel the sweat prickle on his forehead and crawl up his spine and overall he just feels revolting. “Projectile vomit. My insides are going to come out of my mouth, I shit you not.” Derek massages his head again and leaves a trail of kisses on the nape of his neck.

“Are you listening?” Stiles asks, his face still buried in the pillow. “Smell me, I’m sick.”

“I can cancel the tickets, if you want, Stiles. We don’t have to go home today if you’re not feeling up to it.” Derek’s voice is filled with concern and Stiles can feel a lump of emotion start to form in his throat. “How much does it really hurt?” Derek asks.  _ No _ , Stiles thinks. He can’t just let Derek cancel the tickets because Derek paid for them and Derek wants to go home and so does Stiles and frankly, Stiles would just end up feeling like a complete dick. Tears threaten to escape Stiles’ eyes and then he squeezes his eyes shut and a ragged sob comes out of his throat and he turns on his side. Derek brushes his thumb across Stiles’ cheek, a mask of concern washing over his face.

“Stiles, don’t worry! We don’t have to get on the plane, I promise.” Derek says, intertwining their fingers desperately and that just makes Stiles cry even more. “No, Stiles, no, don’t cry. Please don’t cry, I promise, we don’t have to get on the plane.” Derek panics, messily kissing Stiles’ tears.

“I hate planes, Derek.” Stiles states, looking up to Derek.

“I know, I know, we don’t have to get on one today.”

“But that’s not it.” Stiles says, shaking his head. 

“Stiles, how much pain are you really in?” Derek voice gets darker, seriousness taking over his tone. Stiles reaches a hand up to Derek’s face, softly caressing his cheek.

“Why do you love me enough that you would cancel tickets just so I would get my way?” 

“What?” Derek’s eyebrows cross, his face softening as he moves to be on top of Stiles. “Stiles,” He says, lifting his chin up. “I would do anything for you.” Stiles smiles, closing his eyes and letting Derek kiss him.

“I love you.” Stiles says quietly, his eyes shining up at Derek’s. 

“I love you, too.” Derek says, nuzzling his head in the crook of Stiles’ neck and Stiles doesn’t feel like crying anymore. Maybe they can wait a day to get on a plane  _ just _ yet. 

**Author's Note:**

> tbh i see stiles more of a brand new, the neighbourhood, all time low, twenty one pilots type-a-guy but, ive always dreamt of listening to m83 on a plane so there it is 
> 
> idk i hate the fact that you should have to explain your sexuality to someone like, it's love. love whoever you want to love. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> may the sterek be with you all


End file.
